


can you help me remember how to smile

by Penguin_Lord



Series: A Rider on the Oregon [2]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz, The Oregon Files - Clive Cussler
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, Post-Crocodile Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 14:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20931725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguin_Lord/pseuds/Penguin_Lord
Summary: "Do you remember when I mentioned my daughter, some years back?” Maurice asked.“Yes I remember.” Juan reached for a name. “Helen, or Helena, wasn’t it?”“That’s correct.” Maurice confirmed. “Helen. She married a fellow named John. I was not invited to the wedding. A few years later they had a son named Alexander. Unfortunately, only a little while after, both Helen and John were killed in a plane crash. Alexander was unharmed.”





	can you help me remember how to smile

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back for more ridiculous Alex Rider/Oregon Files crossover fun. In case you missed the memo, I love this fandom fusion and I have many, many ideas on the way it can be done. In this iteration, Maurice is Alex's long estranged grandfather. 
> 
> This does not include the latest Alex Rider books, Never Say Die (released in 2017) or Secret Weapon (released in 2019). I'm old school in my Alex Rider interests. I'll get around to reading the new ones eventually, but for now, this was written to cap the end of Crocodile Tears.

Juan Cabrillo had worked with Maurice for years. He was one of the very first hires of the fledgling Corporation. To this day, Juan isn’t sure how Maurice’s name came to be amongst those first few recommendations. To be completely honest, Juan can’t even remember Maurice’s last name. The legend of the man had only grown in the years since. Half the crew thinks Maurice a ghost that can become tangible at will. The other half believes him to be a zombie or fae. 

Juan doesn’t seriously believe either option, but he does admit that Maurice has an almost preternatural sense of the crew’s needs and desires. The Head Steward was something of a mystery. He was always impeccably dressed, no matter the time or how rough the seas and could anticipate Juan’s every request.

Juan does know a couple things about the mysterious Stewart. He was from Portsmouth, England. He had joined the Royal Navy just after turning eighteen. And he had a daughter he was estranged to. 

This last fact was not one commonly known amongst the rest of the Oregon’s crew. Juan himself had only found out because of particular episode. 

Juan had once been married, to a woman he had known for a long time. They were in each other’s orbit in high school and re-discovered each other after college, when they were both working in the DC area. A spark of mutual attraction fueled a short courtship and they were married a little over a year later. Shortly after that, Langston Overholt had recruited him into the CIA. He gave the cover to his wife that he was working as a Sales Representative for a company that sent him to deal with long contracts. She accepted without much thought.

Soon Juan was swept into life at the Agency. His personal patriotism and the hardworking, intelligent, passionate people he worked with shared his enthusiasm. He was so enamoured with his new job that he didn’t notice the slow descent his wife took into alcoholism until it was too late. His wife died in a drunk driving accident of her own making while Juan was away on assignment. He hadn’t known anything was wrong. 

Years later the sting of her death still lingered, especially on the anniversary of her passing. Juan had taken to filling that day to the brim, to put his anxiety and anger and rage and shame to good use. The worst was the waning hours of night, when the thoughts wouldn’t leave his head. The first anniversary had gone unremarked aboard the Oregon. However, on the second anniversary on the Oregon, Maurice had knocked on his door, offering a cup of rich hot chocolate and a willing ear. 

Every year since, on the anniversary, Juan and Maurice shared a somber quiet drink together. During that time, Maurice had mentioned a wife of his own, one who had died while he was away at sea and a daughter that never forgave him for his absence. 

This information wasn’t pertinent on a daily basis. Maurice seemed to effortlessly glide above normal emotions, always calm and collected. 

A knock on Juan’s cabin door signalled the end of those assumptions. 

“Come in,” Juan called. He was sitting at his desk, typing out an email after a thankfully unhurried day of work. The door opened promptly and Maurice entered. 

“Captain Cabrillo.” The Head Stewart greeted. “I wonder if I could beg your permission for discussion of a personal nature.”

Juan’s eyes sharpened. Maurice’s uniform was still in impeccable condition, but the other man was fidgeting slightly with a button on his cuff and shifting slightly from foot to foot. 

Maurice was a wreck. Maybe the average man or woman on the street wouldn’t be able to see it, but for Juan, who had worked with the Englishman for years, his anxiety was evident.

“Absolutely, Maurice. Come in. Sit down.” Juan indicated an empty chair along the wall near the desk. 

Maurice shut the door and walked over but remained standing. “If it’s all the same to you Captain, I would prefer to stand.”

“What is it Maurice? Has something happened?”

“Nothing that concerns the Oregon.” Maurice said with assurance. “She is still in shipshape and Bristol fashion. This is a personal matter. Do you remember when I mentioned my daughter, some years back?”

“Yes I remember.” Juan reached for a name. “Helen, or Helena, wasn’t it?”

“That’s correct.” Maurice confirmed. “Helen. She married a fellow named John. I was not invited to the wedding. A few years later they had a son named Alexander. Unfortunately only a little while after, both Helen and John were killed in a plane crash. Alexander was unharmed; he had been left behind with a sitter.”

“Maurice, I’m so sorry.” Juan said. 

Maurice did not appear overly emotional reciting the facts of his daughter’s death. “It was a long time ago. In their will, John and Helen gave custody of Alexander to John’s brother Ian. Ian was an extremely loyal brother to John and Helen’s memory. He knew of our estrangement and politely requested I not visit.” 

“Maurice…” Juan trailed off. Nothing he could say would make the situation better. 

“As I said, it was a long time ago.” Maurice waved it off. “For the first handful of years I asked a couple of my contacts to keep an eye on Ian and Alexander. They reported that Alexander was well cared for, that Ian seemed to adore the boy. Took him on all sorts of trips, to France, Barcelona, Malta. Signed him up for the local football league. Eventually I stopped torturing myself. I would never know Alexander. I stopped requesting updates. Shortly after that, I joined the Oregon. I tried to put Alexander out of my mind.”

Maurice took a heavy breath. “That was, until this morning. I received a call from my lawyer. An American agent from the San Francisco branch of Child Protective Services was trying to reach me, as Alexander’s last living relative. His current guardians, Edward and Elizabeth Pleasure, died in a car accident last week.” 

“I take it you were not aware Alexander no longer resided with his uncle, let alone in San Francisco?” Juan guessed.

“No I bloody well did not.” Maurice spoke with deadly calm. “My lawyer couldn’t tell me anything. None of my old contacts are left in the government. I called San Francisco. The CPS agent, Mrs. Juliet Hughes, is a very lovely young woman but not very knowledgeable. Somehow, the Pleasures were granted custody of Alexander after his previous guardian, Jaqueline Starbright, died. That’s all she knows. Currently Alexander is living in a foster home, while his guardianship is decided. If I refuse to take him in, he’ll be a ward of the State of California.”

“I take it you’d like to leave immediately.” Juan was already planning logistics in his head. The Oregon was currently off the coast of Nicaragua, making a legitimate cargo run of machine parts bound for Rio De Janeiro. 

“Absolutely,” Maurice said immediately. Then he paused, as though thinking a problem through. 

“Although it does present a certain problem. The Oregon is not a place to raise a child.”

“It’s not something I considered when I built the Corporation.” Juan admitted. 

“Our lives are dangerous. The Oregon herself gets into her fair share of trouble. I would be hesitant to endanger Alexander by having him aboard.” Maurice said frankly. “I would need to take a leave of absence from the ship.” 

Juan, while unsurprised, was still saddened to hear of Maurice’s decision. “While I would be sad to see you go, I think you’d be making the right decision. It sounds like this kid has had a rough life for the past couple years. He’s lost three guardians. That would leave a big mark on anybody.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” Maurice nodded resolutely. “I failed my daughter once by being away at sea for too long. I will not fail my grandson.” 

“I’ll have Gomez give you a ride in the Robinson to Managua, Nicaragua. From there we can get you on a flight to California.” 

“Thank you, Captain Cabrillo.” 

“Think nothing of it. Your family is our family. Just keep me posted.”

* * *

The door opened to the small meeting room and someone entered but Alex didn’t life his head, bowed as it was, forehead resting against the table.

He couldn’t bring himself to care who entered. It was probably just Mrs. Hughes, the social worker that had been assigned to his case. She called him into the office for some reason.

There wasn’t any point. Alex already knew his fate. It was only a matter of time before he was sent back to England and into the hands of MI6. Now that the Pleasures were dead, MI6, no matter how sympathetic a mask Mrs. Jones put on, wouldn’t hesitate to get it’s claws back into Alex.

It was ironic the Pleasures died, in a completely random drunk driving accident. Alex had even gotten his hands on the police report. There was no hint of Scorpia or any other hidden agendas. 

Two chairs were pulled out on the other side of the table. Alex still didn’t look up. More than just Mrs.  
Hughes then. 

Finally a throat cleared pointedly.

Alex finally looked up.

The sight in front of him was puzzling. Mrs. Hughes was expected, but the older, silver-head man in a smartly pressed button up and tie was unexpected. 

Mr. Hughes spoke first. “Good morning, Alex.” She paused, expecting a greeting in return. Alex remained mute, his face purposely uninterested. 

She rallied well. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you in today?” 

Alex felt a twinge of guilt. Mrs. Hughes meant well. She just wasn’t equipped to handle his problems. She expected a distraught teen who had just lost his guardians. What she got was a former spy, cautious and wary of everything and desperate to not be sent back to England. 

To settle his guilt, Alex nodded, answering her question. 

“I suppose you remember my questions about your parents? With what you gave me, I was able to track down their records in England through one of my contacts in Britain. We found that you still have a living relative. Alex, I’d like to meet your grandfather, Maurice Beckett.” 

“What?” Alex asked, absolutely floored. His gaze snapped to Maurice Beckett. The older man met his eyes, nodding slightly. 

“I just wanted to do introductions. I’ll leave you two alone for a little while so you can talk about things, okay?”

Maurice spoke for the first time, his accent polished and crisp. “Thank you Mrs. Hughes. Your help has been much appreciated.” 

“Just doing my job,” Mrs. Hughes said. “It’s rewarding when we can reunite families like this.” 

She stood up and exited the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Are you really my grandfather?” Alex demanded. He shed the apathetic shell, anxious to get to the truth. He didn’t want this previously unknown family member to be another Ash situation. 

“Yes I am.” Maurice confirmed. He reached under the table a pulled out a worn photo album, handing it to Alex. Alex opened the cover to the first page. The first page contained a baby picture of a blonde haired baby with big blue eyes. The text underneath read, ‘Helen Tamsin Beckett. Born 14 October, 1974.’ 

Alex flipped through page after page. Maurice, as much younger man, featured in some of the photos, as well as a pretty blonde haired woman who must have been Alex’s grandmother. The album chronographed Helen Beckett’s life. School photos, the first time on a bike, baking in the kitchen. Alex had never seen so many pictures of his mother. He could see the adult she would become as she grew older in the photos. The last photo must have been when she was a teenager, about Alex’s age. 

Alex reevaluated Maurice. This was felt like more than just a trick to lure Alex into trusting a stranger. Still, he had to be certain. 

“Why did you never come visit? Why didn’t I know about you at all?”

A look of regret flashed across Maurice’s face. “For most of Helen’s childhood, I was in the Royal Navy and later the Merchant Marines. I was rarely at home. When Helen was sixteen, my wife Madeline, her mother, caught pneumonia during the winter and never fully recovered. I was at sea at the time and nothing Madeline told me made me think it was anything to be overly concerned about. However, six months later she was dead. Helen blamed me for Madeline’s death. If I had only come home and seen Madeline’s struggles, maybe it could have been prevented.” Maurice spread his hands. “No one will ever know.”

“My mother never forgave you.” Alex guessed. 

“No she did not. I was not invited to her wedding to your father. When your father and Helen passed away, they gave custody of you to Ian. Ian knew of our estrangement and respectfully asked me to keep my distance. He said he would tell you about me when you were eighteen, so you could make your own decisions as an adult, but presume he never had the opportunity.” 

“No, he didn’t.” Alex said faintly. He mind was running at a 100 miles per hour. All this time, he had a grandfather. 

“Why didn’t you try to contact me when Ian died?”

Maurice shook his head regretfully. “I was not aware he had died. A few years ago, I took a position on board a ship as Head Stewart. I left my lawyer back in England with instructions if you ever made contact but I never heard anything. It wasn’t until Mrs. Hughes called my lawyer when you landed in her care that I knew Ian had died, let alone that you were now living in America.”

Blunt probably had a hand in that, Alex mused silently. The conniving MI6 man wouldn’t let anyone else into Alex’s life. It would have given Alex a way to get out of their control. 

“I believe you.” Alex said. He suddenly felt anxious and a little self-conscious. “Does this mean you’re going to take me in?”

“I would like to, with your permission.” Maurice seemed as awkward as Alex. “I’ve been working and living at sea for some time, so I don’t have a home established. But all things considered, I think we can make it work - together.. We can stay here, so you can stay in a familiar school, or we can go back to England-”

“I don’t want to return to England.” Alex interjected. “I don’t really care where we go, as long as it’s not there. How fast can you get custody?” 

Maurice looked nonplussed at Alex’s interruption. “If that is what you wish. I can try to get custody as soon as possible, but the Americans tend to have an overabundance of bureaucracy.” 

“Don’t I know it.” Alex grimaced. 

Maurice’s stiff posture relaxed infinitesimally. 

“So Alex, tell me about yourself.” 

Alex let out the breath he had been holding since Mrs. Hughes called the foster home he was currently living at. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. 

* * *

Eventually the paperwork got through. From his discussions with Mrs. Hughes, the California Child Protective Services were a little unsure how the Pleasures received custody of Alexander in the first place. The paperwork was rushed through by the British government, more than Mrs. Hughes had ever seen. 

Maurice had the inclination that Captain Cabrillo used one of his contacts to speed the process along. That was confirmed later that night with what would be a very disturbing telephone call. 

“Captain Cabrillo.” Maurice greeted when he picked up the phone. 

“Maurice.” Juan responded. “How is your grandson?”

Maurice thought back to Alexander’s defeated slump. “Tired. Angry. Heartsore.”

“Understandable.” Juan said. He paused, seemingly unsure. “Look, about your grandson. I called Langston Overholt, to try to get things through faster, and Lang had some very concerning things to say.”

“About Alexander?” How did the veteran CIA officer know his grandson?

“Yes. Listen, do you of a man named Alan Blunt?”

Maurice felt his stomach grow cold. “What does that feckless, conniving arsehole have to do with my grandson?”

Maurice had met Alan Blunt when they were both serving in Her Majesty’s Navy. He had not been impressed with the weasel-like man serving in Navy Intelligence, and had not heard good things about him after. Blunt had the reputation of using everything and everyone to achieve his goals. He cared little for the men under his command and 

Maurice could almost hear Juan’s wince over the phone. “John Rider and Ian Rider were both MI6 operatives. According to Overholt, after Ian died, Blunt blackmailed Alex into completing over eight missions for him.”

“What!” Maurice demanded.

“I know, I know.” The Captain said. “I completely agree. I’ve already chewed Overholt out for allowing this to happen. Listen, this is all really heavy. Once Overholt told me what, I figured this was more complicated. Overholt is still worried that Alex will be pulled back in. Blunt is gone for now, but others know how useful Alex has been.”

“Over my dead body.” Maurice vowed. 

“Ours too.” Juan agreed. “I brought Max, Julie, and Linda in on this already. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all. Mr. Hanley’s, Dr. Huxley’s, and Commander Ross’ professional advice will be invaluable.” 

“Also, I’m flying to San Francisco to meet with you and Alex.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Don’t tell him anything yet. I’d like to be there. There are some things we need to discuss together.”

“Are you going to offer him a place on the Oregon?” Maurice demanded. The sanctuary the Oregon offered would hide him from the British government, but it would still be dangerous.

“With your permission, he’d have a place aboard the ship. If he wants to join the Corporation eventually, he’ll have to wait until he is eighteen.”

Maurice considered the option seriously. The spectre of a corrupt intelligence chief willing to blackmail a minor into life-threatening work was not an easy one to dismiss.

“You have my permission, Captain.” 

“Thank you, Maurice. I’ll be in San Francisco by tomorrow night.” 

* * *

Juan examined the young teenager he sat across from in the sitting room of the hotel room. Maurice, having enough money, had rented a room at an upscale hotel in San Francisco, one that came with a small sitting room. Juan was sitting opposite Alex Rider around a small round table. Maurice sat perpendicular. 

Alex Rider was an attractive young man. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and striking features. His face was closed off and guarded however. It had been once Maurice let Juan into the room, introducing Juan as his Captain, Juan Cabrillo.

The hardened teenager must have realized something was off by both Juan and Maurice’s serious expressions.

“It’s nice to meet you, Alex.” Juan greeted, offering his hand for a handshake. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“It’s funny; I can’t say the same.” Alex said with polite sarcasm. 

“Ah, there’s a reason for that. I’m afraid it’s a rather long story. Please take a seat.” Juan motioned to the table and chairs. Alex sat down stiffly.

“I have some serious things to tell you, some of which you might not light. Afterwards you’re going to have a lot to think about and some big decisions to make. Do you consent to hearing me out, all the way through? After, I’ll be more than happy to answer any and all questions.” 

Alex was silent for a minute, his face drawn and serious. Finally he said, “I consent.” 

Juan breathed a silent sigh of relief. Alex was sitting on a hair-trigger, exceedingly close to full on panic. “Thank you.” Juan paused for a second. “As Maurice said, my name is Juan Cabrillo. Up until a few years ago, I worked as a NOC, a non-official cover for the CIA. After I retired, I founded a Corporation of like-minded people. We’re a for profit mercenary-type organization. One of major clients is an Emerie Sheik. Our other major employer is the CIA; we take missions they need plausible deniability for.”

“The world is getting more and more dangerous. Terrorists. Megalomaniacs. Someone needs to do whatever they can to protect international peace. We do what we can. However-” Juan’s expression could have been carved from rock. “My crew and I do not abide by child abuse in any form, especially the kind performed by Alan Blunt. MI6 and Joe Bryant kept a close lid on their activities. We didn’t know about your story until I tried to get the transfer of custody fast-tracked by calling my old boss at Langley, Langston Overholt.”

Maurice interjected with a sour look on his face. “I had no idea that Ian had died, otherwise I would have offered to take you in back then. I suspect that slimy snake Blunt blocked any talk of transferring your guardianship away from Jacqueline Starbright, whom he could more easily threaten and intimidate.”

Alex’s expression was mutinous. “I would not put it past him.” 

“Indeed.” 

Juan took back the conversation. “Maurice had already left our ship by this point so he wasn’t involved in these discussions. I talked the situation over with Overholt. Overholt was extremely impressed with your actions and so were we. However, Overholt also expressed his concern about your safety. Mrs. Jones has apparently done what she can to shield you, but your reputation precedes you. You have had unimaginable success, especially for someone of your age and training. It is possible that another unscrupulous intelligence officer might try to exploit that.” 

Alex looked at little ill at the thought. “God, I hope not.” 

“We just don’t know.” Juan said. “Which is why I was hoping to work with you to find a solution. My ship, the Oregon, will always be an option for you. You have a standing invitation to come aboard, for however long you need, without any expectation. However, there are two problems with long term residency on the ship. The first is that we’re, for all intents and purposes, a mercenary ship, one which goes into danger often. The second is that we’re not equipped for a teenager. You would have to finish school online. We have people who could act as tutors, but no-one who is a qualified teacher.”

Alex nodded his head in understanding. 

“Other options are possible.” Juan continued. “You can continue life in San Francisco at your school. We can set you up with an emergency phone. If someone is acting shifty, we’ll be here in two days, maximum. I can give you Langston Overholt’s cell number, if we’re not available and the situation is immediate. Or you can move someone else and continue your education there, with the same backups. It’s all up to you.” 

“Regardless of whether you any of Captain Cabrillo’s offers,” Maurice interjected. “I will always be by your side. If you do not wish to live aboard the Oregon, I will resign from the Corporation and together we will find someplace to settle.”

For the first time since Juan came into the room, Alex Rider’s face was heartbreakingly vulnerable. 

By implicit agreement, Maurice and Juan stayed silent as Alex digested all the information. Finally he composed himself, eyes turning hard and solemn. 

“Are you serious?” Alex demanded. “Can you protect me from someone like Blunt?”

“Yes we can.” Juan assured him. “We answer to no-one. We may take contracts from the CIA but we are not beholden to the US government, nor the English government. We fly under the Iranian flag, most of the time in international waters.”

“I want to go with you.” Alex answered immediately.

“Alexander…” Maurice trailed off. 

“No.” Alex denied. “I refuse to be anyone’s pawn. I’ll take the dangers. I’ll do school on my own. I cannot be at anyone’s mercy. Not anymore.” 

Juan nodded solemnly. “Welcome to the Oregon.” 

* * *

It had taken a couple more days for the adoption paperwork to go through, even with some surreptitious help from Langston Overhold IV at the CIA. In the meantime, Maurice put Alex into contact with his British Law Firm, with the express understanding that Alex would not have to be physically present in the UK to complete the paperwork. 

By the time of his premature death, his uncle Ian had saved a tidy sum, likely for an unforeseen forced retirement. That money had been virtually confiscated by Alan Blunt and MI6, to have a better hold on Alex. Mrs. Jones had released it, but put it in a trust that Alex could only access once he turned 18. Together with the lawyers, Alex changed the management of the trust to his newly discovered grandfather. 

Once that was complete, Alex, his grandfather, and Captain Cabrillo boarded a plane bound for Florida, then transferred onto another flight, this one to their final destination, Rio de Janairo. One week after meeting Captain Cabrillo, Alex took his first step aboard the ship known as the Oregon. 

It was a heavy feeling, pulling himself at the mercy of a man he did not know. He trusted his grandfather. And wasn’t that a surprise. When Alex asked about his grandparents on both sides, Ian had carefully worded the answer that his maternal grandfather was not present in their lives anymore. The secretive man hadn’t said he was dead, and the photo album Maurice had brought made Alex believed his story, but it was still a shock to know he had family left. Time would only tell if that family would turn out like Ash, but Alex allowed himself to be cautiously optimistic for the first time in what felt like ages. 

Captain Cabrillo and the Corporation were also a surprise, one that Alex had not seen coming. Alex had almost resigned himself to being pulled back into MI6. 

(Ben Daniels had sent him a condolence card meant as a warning after the Pleasures were killed. Alex had been looking over his shoulder ever since. 

Ben was one of his only reliable sources of information for England and MI6 anymore. They had formed a loose sense of camaraderie after Alex sent him a Get Well card after Australia.)

The Corporation was the far better option, even if Alex would eventually be pulled back into the world of espionage. All the work Alex had done for MI6, the CIA, and ASIS had taught him to trust his instincts. Ash had seemed dodgy from the beginning. Now, in contrast, everything about Juan seemed trustworthy. 

“Watch your step.” Juan called out, pulling Alex back to the present. “The deck can get really dirty. We try to keep it that way. You know, to keep up appearances.” 

The Oregon was something else. Maurice (Alex still couldn’t call him any derivation of grandfather. Not yet.) had explained a little of the camouflage that hid the ship but Alex hadn’t been able to imagine anything of this magnitude. 

Juan led the way up to the Bridge, stepping over piles of cables and rusty oil drums. The railing looked ready to rust away and one of the steps was reinforced with a large piece of particle board. Inside the Bridge was not any better. Several nearly empty coffee cups on one table had mold colonies growing in them. Most the electronic equipment looked second hand. The paint was peeling from the walls and a terrible smell was wafting from further down the hall. 

“Welcome to the Oregon,” Juan said, sweeping his arms in a wide gesture. “Currently her hull reads the ‘Norego’, just one of the many modest tricks we employ to fool other ships, customs agents, and other outsiders. We can also adjust the number of deck cranes and containers as necessary.”

The former spy looked out through the battered and dusty Bridge windows to the sparkling blue ocean and clear tropical sun. It was the complete opposite to the grey, forbidding monotony of the Royal and General Bank in London. “She’s absolutely lovely.” 

Captain Cabrillo seemed touched. “Thank you. I think so too. The old girl looks a little rough on the outside, but inside she’s all heart. We’ll give you the full tour first, and then you can settle in your cabin for a while. Dinner will be served at 7 pm. Maurice normally doesn’t eat with the crew. You can eat with him in the kitchen, but you’re also welcome to eat with me. I can introduce you to the other Executive Officers.” 

“Thank you, Captain Cabrillo.” Alex said. 

“You really don’t have to call me Captain,” Cabrillo said ruefully. “Your grandfather is about the only one aboard who calls me Captain.”

“What does everyone else call you?”

“Chairman.” 

Alex thought about it. “I like Captain better.” He said with a little bit of cheek. 

Captain Cabrillo laughed. “Like grandfather, like grandson. I should have expected your sass as well. You wouldn’t believe the sass Maurice is capable of.” 

“Some things just run in families, I guess.” Alex parried. His grandfather shot him a quick wink when the Captain wasn’t looking. 

“Well, let’s get this show on the road.” Cabrillo said. “There are a couple ways to get into the Oregon. I’ll show you the easiest way.” The Captain led the way to an out of the way supply closet. The blond haired former agent went up to a large sink at the back of the closet. “The code is three full turns to the right, then one full turn to the left.” He demonstrated, turning the sink’s nobb. After the singular turn to the left, a section of wall to the left swung to the side, revealing a hidden entrance. 

“After you,” Cabrillo motioned. 

Alex went first, hesitantly stepping into a new world. Unlike on the Bridge, the interior was sleek, modern, and elegant. The hallways were covered by a lush carpet, the walls done in a tasteful combination of paint, wallpaper, and wooden molding and trim. Masters’ artwork adorned the walls. The Captain and Maurice first showed him how to navigate. 

“This hallway,” Captain Cabrillo explained. “Leads to the main staircase. That’s the easiest way to get around the ship. There are three levels. The lowest contains the engine room, lap pool, moon pool, boat launch, exercise room, magic shop, and storage. The middle deck is where most of the crew is housed, including your room and Maurice. I told the crew to put you in one of the spare rooms near Maurice. Everyone gets a room to themselves. This is a ship so the rooms are on the smaller side, but they’ve all been soundproofed and you’re free to decorate however you like. The highest level, where we are now, contains the kitchen, dining room, laundry, operations, boardroom, and the rest of the crew’s quarters, including my own. Got it?”

“Yes, Captain.” Alex said faintly. 

“You’re a smart kid,” Cabrillo teased, noticing his awe. “I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time.” 

The Captain excused himself, citing paperwork he had to catch up on. Maurice took over the tour, showing Alex the whole ship, as well as passing along little anecdotes about the ships capable crew. 

They ended the tour at Alex’s cabin. It was small, as the Captain had warned, much smaller than his old bedroom in Chelsea. But it was decorated in a soothing deep green. There was a small window that let in natural light and overhead lights that didn’t feel sterile. Best of all, it was worlds away from Alan Blunt and MI6. 

* * *

_Epilogue_

Alex finished his school work over a year early. After missing so much time at Brookland and struggling to get caught up, he had developed a couple strategies to take in the most information in as short a time as possible. 

True to Juan’s prediction, Alex was able to use many of the Oregon’s crew as tutors for his classes. Eric Stone and Mark Murphy helped with mathematics, chemistry, and physics. Max Hanley loved military history. Hali Kasim helped him with Arabic (the language he had chosen to learn next). His grandfather and Captain Cabrillo taught him economics and estate planning. 

Sure, the Oregon sometimes got into scrapes. Maurice and the Captain had even tag-teamed to send him off the ship to a safehouse when they knew they were going into treacherous territory a couple times (much to his frustration and vexation). 

Alex wasn’t sure what his long term plans were. He turned eighteen in eleven months and the opportunities seemed endless. He could go to University. He could take a gap year, or five. He could teach English in Asia. Langston Overholt had extended a job offer (as well as let him know Joe Brynt would never bother him again). He could also join the crew of the Oregon. 

He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that now he had the agency to make his own decisions. And that was worth its weight in gold.


End file.
